


Ten Pin Trouble

by dS_Tiff



Category: due South
Genre: Birthday, Crimes & Criminals, Friendship, Gen, Ten Pin Bowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dS_Tiff/pseuds/dS_Tiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Constable Turnbull's birthday and he invites everyone along for an evening of fun at the bowling alley.  Unfortunately, things don't quite work out as he hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during Season 4. It's a light-hearted, fun story, nothing more. I started writing it when I needed cheering up. I hope you enjoy reading it.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming this evening,” gushed Constable Turnbull. “It’s an honour to be able to celebrate my birthday with all of you.”

It was a cold Chicago evening as Turnbull made the impassioned speech to his friends and colleagues as they stood outside the Lightning Strikes bowling alley. He’d wanted to take everyone to the museum to see the new temporary exhibit of pencils on loan from a museum in England, but Fraser – who was slowly learning what most Americans found interesting (and it wasn’t pencils) – had suggested they go bowling instead.

The detective previously known as Ray Kowalski, but currently known as Ray Vecchio, glanced at his watch. He really didn’t want to be here this evening at all – he’d rather have been at home watching the ball game – but Fraser had made him feel guilty about turning down the younger Mountie’s invitation, so here he was. 

Turnbull was starting to get choked up as he continued to speak of his pride at being able to work at the Consulate and with the Chicago Police Department. Inspector Meg Thatcher almost started to feel guilty about the menial tasks she gave him every day…almost.

“Yeah, yeah,” sighed Detective Thomas Dewey, dismissively. “Can we go in now?”

“Good idea,” chipped in Jack Huey. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Oh yes, yes of course,” nodded Turnbull and he held open the door as Dewey and Huey entered the building, followed by Ray, Fraser, Lieutenant Welsh and Inspector Thatcher.

Just as the door closed behind them, a taxi pulled up outside and Francesca Vecchio got out. She ran into the bowling alley. “Sorry I’m late,” she began, smiling at Turnbull, but then her face fell as she looked from Turnbull to everyone else in the group. “Oh…I thought it would just be…I thought when you asked me to go bowling with you…” she trailed off, disappointment evident in her voice as she realised her mistake.

Turnbull looked bemused; he had no idea what she was talking about.

Ray stifled a snigger. Whenever any guy asked Francesca to meet her anywhere she assumed he was asking her on a date. “It’s, er, it’s Turnbull’s birthday,” Ray explained, feeling sorry for her as her face reddened with humiliation. “We’re here to par-tay!” he added with far too much enthusiasm than the situation warranted. He was really trying hard.

Francesca smiled and nodded, wishing she’d worn something less revealing. _Although Fraser’s here too; maybe this evening might still be productive after all?_

Turnbull strode confidently up to the desk. 

“Hi, I’m Candy,” smiled the young woman behind the desk. “Do you have a booking?” 

Candy’s surgically enhanced bosom was barely contained in a pink nylon strapless creation and she was wearing a skirt so short it even shocked Francesca.

Ray looked at Welsh, Huey and Dewey and instantly knew that they were all thinking the same thing. They all knew it was wrong, but they couldn’t help it; the girl might as well have been naked. They all realised that Inspector Thatcher would lecture them about being disrespectful and objectifying women if she’d known what was going through their minds so they quickly wiped the grins off their faces. Ray glanced at Fraser, but his expression was giving very little away.

“Good evening, Miss,” began Turnbull, apparently oblivious to the amount of flesh on display. “We have, indeed, made a booking for this evening in the name of Turnbull.”

Candy ran her finger down a handwritten list of names until she found the booking. “Oh yes, here you are,” she smiled at Turnbull. “You have lane three.”

“Thank you,” beamed Turnbull. Inside he was shaking with nerves. He had already double checked the booking earlier, but he was still terrified that something would go wrong and spoil his carefully laid plans. So far so good, though.

He hadn’t expected so many of his friends and acquaintances to accept his invitation and he wanted his birthday evening to go well. He was unaware that the only reason Lieutenant Welsh was there was to get out of going to the new Captain’s cocktail soiree. He would also have been disappointed to find out that Inspector Thatcher had been let down at the last minute by a visiting Italian diplomat and so had decided to come along just so she could be with Fraser instead.

“Have you been to Lightning Strikes before?” asked Candy. As she spoke she looked back over her shoulder and appeared to get distracted by the clock on the wall.

“This is my first visit,” Turnbull explained.

Candy was frowning at her watch now and didn’t say anything.

“Miss?” ventured Turnbull.

“Oh, sorry,” beamed Candy, flicking her bleached blonde hair over her shoulders. “What did you say?”

“I said that I have not been here before,” reiterated Turnbull.

“Oh, OK,” Candy’s voice went squeaky with excitement as her focus returned to her customers. She loved it when a new customer came in because it gave her a chance to give her well-rehearsed welcome speech. “Welcome to Lightning Strikes,” she began. “My name is Candy and I’m here to help you have the best time. We pride ourselves on our friendliness and cleanliness, which kinda rhymes…” she giggled at her own joke, even though she’d made it a hundred times before.

Ray rolled his eyes as she continued to explain where the bathrooms were and how to order food from the menu. He’d heard it all before. All the staff were trained to recite the same information and he’d been here a few times in the past, although not so much recently. Fraser had actually suggested an evening out at the bowling alley a few times, much to Ray’s surprise - because he couldn’t imagine his buddy enjoying it - but they’d never quite got around to going.

“I’ll bring over your complimentary soft drinks shortly and Dominic will get your shoes for you.” Candy was finally finished and she pointed to her colleague at the shoe desk. “Have a nice evening!”

Meg Thatcher hadn’t been bowling for years and as they went to get their bowling shoes, she began to wish she’d stayed at home and caught up on some paperwork. She turned her nose up as Dominic gave her a pair of tatty red and white shoes to wear. She had deliberately worn three pairs of socks this evening; the idea of wearing shoes that hundreds of other people had had their feet in turned her stomach.

Fraser noticed her concern. “Don’t worry, Sir,” he said. “The probability of contracting a fungal infection is…”

“I don’t want to know, Fraser!” she exclaimed and stormed off with her shoes to find Welsh, Huey, Dewey and Francesca who had all brought their own shoes. 

Welsh’s shoes were quite old fashioned, but he’d had them for years and they were still comfortable so he saw no need for new ones. Dewey had a very expensive pair which he had been showing off to everyone in the squadroom all day. Francesca’s bowling shoes were pink and covered in diamantes, of course and Meg rolled her eyes in disgust at the overt femininity on display. 

The Inspector was aware that she would be competing for Fraser’s attention this evening and she wondered if she should have worn something less casual. She was dressed in jeans and a flowery shirt that was quite pretty for her, but she felt frumpy next to Francesca. 

Dominic was a little slow at his job and Ray drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited. 

Fraser watched the young employee with interest. The shoes were all arranged very neatly in their slots and Dominic obviously took pride in his work; a quality Fraser admired.

As Dominic scanned the shelves for the right sizes, an unusual earring caught the light as it swung from his left ear. He grabbed a pair of red and white shoes and handed them to Fraser. “These are for you,” he said. “I’ll just get the others.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” began Fraser, taking his shoes off the desk. “The earring you wear – is it tribal?”

Dominic laughed. “Kinda,” he replied. “It’s Bajoran.”

Fraser frowned. “I am unfamiliar with that tribe,” he said. “Are they from the Amazon?”

“No,” Dominic laughed again. “From Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.”

“It’s a TV show, buddy,” added Ray.

“I am aware of that,” replied Fraser, indignantly. “Maxwell Dawson, the captain of the Tuktoyaktuk petanque team, loaned me the original series on VHS and I found it quite enjoyable. Although I haven’t seen Deep Space Nine, I think The Next Generation, while not quite the same, still holds true to the spirit and values of the original.”

Dominic nodded approvingly. “They’ve deliberately tried something different with Deep Space Nine,” he said, “and I think it works.”

“Personally, I prefer Canadian television,” said Turnbull, dismissively.

Ray was quite surprised. He watched Star Trek occasionally, but he couldn’t imagine Fraser watching it, nor owning a VCR player for that matter.

Fraser noticed his friend’s sneer. “There was a VCR in the lunch room at the station,” he explained. “We had a small library of tapes, mostly recordings of Open University programming from the UK. They were quite fascinating, Ray and very educational. You should watch them one day.”

“Er, yeah,” replied Ray; the word ‘educational’ had immediately put him off. “One day when I need to fall into a coma, maybe.”

Fraser frowned disapprovingly and was about to explain the benefits of continuing one’s education when he was interrupted by a yell of “No!” from Dominic.

“What’s wrong, son?” asked Fraser.

Dominic spun around, a look of panic on his face. “This is an odd pair!” he exclaimed. “One size nine and one size ten! I check them in and out personally; how could this have happened?”

“It’s alright,” replied Fraser, calmly. “The matching shoes are probably there somewhere,” and he walked around the desk to help the flustered young man.

Ray looked at his watch again. This was getting ridiculous. He seriously considered making his excuses and leaving; the game had only started ten minutes ago and he’d still be able to catch most of the action if he hurried. He almost jumped over the counter to find himself some shoes, but Fraser had gone into full blown helpful-Mountie mode and Ray decided it wasn’t worth interfering.

“Here they are,” beamed Fraser, suddenly. 

Dominic gratefully reorganised the shoes. “Sorry,” he shook his head, apologetically. “I get a bit freaked out if things aren’t where they’re supposed to be.”

“I completely understand,” Fraser smiled supportively, but Ray just snatched his shoes and went to sit down, leaving Fraser with an apologetic smile on his face. “My friend is…eager to begin bowling,” he said to Dominic, awkwardly.

Finally the whole group had shoes and Fraser began to set up the scoring machine at lightning speed. 

“What was with the freakazoid behind the shoe desk?” asked Ray.

“If you don’t mind me saying, Ray, that’s an appallingly rude comment,” replied Fraser with a frown. “He is a young man with a penchant for neatness. I find nothing freaky about that.”

“You know what these Trekkie kids are like,” continued Ray. “I’d bet my car that he ain’t got a girlfriend.”

“Neither have you,” Dewey pointed out with a grin.

“Oh hardy har har,” replied Ray with a sneer. Dewey was lucky Ray was tired, or he’d have kicked him in the head.

“Gentlemen, please,” said Welsh, impatiently. “Can we get on with this game?”

“I think you should be a team captain, Sir,” said Francesca, never one to miss an opportunity to suck up to her boss, “and Turnbull should be the other one, seeing as it’s his birthday.”

Everyone agreed with her suggestion and Turnbull loyally chose Fraser and Inspector Thatcher for his team, with Francesca adding herself just so she could play with Fraser. Welsh was happy with the Mountie’s choices, especially as Dewey had been boasting all day about how good he was at bowling.

“Looks like we kinda got ourselves an international competition here,” grinned Ray. “You’ve gotta make like a Canadian though, Frannie,” he added with a wink.

Candy brought over a tray of drinks as Fraser was bending over the scoring machine to adjust order of play after Ray and Dewey had argued over who should play first. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared shamelessly at his behind. Meg gave her to the count of five to stop, but she didn’t. “Thank you,” snapped the Inspector brusquely and took the tray of drinks from the under-dressed woman, taking her by surprise.

“Can I get you anything else?” asked Candy, smiling at Fraser.

“No,” snapped Meg.

Candy’s smile faded and she walked away.

The Inspector sighed. It felt like they’d been there forever and they still hadn’t started bowling. She wasn’t enjoying herself at all and she was dismayed to see that Fraser was watching Candy intently while a heated argument had broken out between Ray and Dewey about which ball Francesca should use.

“Fraser!” yelled Meg and her subordinate snapped round, wondering why he was in trouble this time. “Can you please focus your attentions on this game of bowling and not on an under-dressed, over-inflated bimbo!”

Everyone fell silent as she yelled and Fraser’s face flushed red. 

Ray hated it when the Inspector spoke to his buddy like that. He wished Fraser would stand up for himself more often.

“Oh, no,” he replied, suddenly realising how it must have looked to her. “I…I…I wasn’t…that is, my interest in her would be the same whether she was wearing clothes, or not…er, I mean, wearing those clothes, or not…er, I mean my interest in her does not relate at all to her clothing. What I mean is, I have no interest in her, not in the way you’re suggesting…” he trailed off and sighed; he was just digging himself a deeper hole.

Meg shook her head despondently. “Right, I’m going first,” she announced and, picking up a large orange bowling ball, stormed off to take her turn.

“But, Sir,” protested Fraser. He sighed; now he would have to adjust the scoring machine again. They’d already agreed that Francesca would be going first, but no one wanted to argue with the Inspector. 

Fraser smiled to himself. As much as this particular group of people didn’t always see eye to eye, it was still wonderful to him to be out socialising with such a large group of friends. It was in stark contrast to his mostly solitary childhood and, despite the arguing, he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Meg was pleased with her first throw. It had been years since she’d last been bowling, but she got a good score with only two pins left standing.

“OK, let me show you people how this is done,” announced Dewey and he strode confidently onto the lane. Everyone watched intently as Dewey bowled his ball which promptly skewed off the lane and into the gutter.

Dewey couldn’t believe what had just happened. “There’s something wrong with this lane,” he said, waving his hands in the air in frustration, but his second ball did exactly the same thing. Dewey stormed back to his seat in silence.

Francesca hadn’t bowled for a while, but she still managed to score a few points for her team, as did Turnbull and Fraser threw a strike. On the other team, Huey and Ray both did well making up for Dewey’s dismal attempt and then Lieutenant Welsh scored a strike. 

“It’s like riding a bike, you never lose it,” grinned the Lieutenant.

Dewey scowled at him behind his back. 

“It’s simple physics, really,” explained Fraser. “A curve ball aimed between pins one and three at an angle of approximately six degrees is the optimal position for a strike.”

“Glad it’s approximate there, Fraser, because I get a bit hazy between five and ten degrees,” said Ray, sarcastically.

“Obviously velocity, friction and rotation all have a bearing on the outcome,” added Fraser.

“Obviously,” nodded Dewey, pretending he understood. “Well now I know exactly where I went wrong.” He stood up to take his turn again and rolled another ball into the gutter.

A group of teenagers in an adjacent lane cheered one of their team loudly and Dewey yelled at them to keep the noise down, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. Dewey couldn’t knock down a single pin.

The game continued and, despite Dewey’s failure, the scores were quite evenly balanced. Ray scored a strike on his second turn and, of course, Fraser threw another strike too.

“Wow, that’s amazing, mister!” grinned a young boy who was bowling with his parents and older brother in the adjacent lane.

“Don’t bother the man, Ritchie,” scolded his mother.

“It’s quite alright,” replied Fraser, as Ritchie slowly walked back to join her. 

Ritchie’s mother was heavily pregnant and carefully eased herself out of the plastic seat to grab her son’s hand, massaging the small of her own back with the other. “He gets frustrated when he doesn’t knock any down,” she explained, smiling apologetically at Fraser. “I’m Julie Santini,” she continued with a smile. “We promised the boys we’d go bowling one last time before the baby’s born.”

“Benton Fraser,” replied Fraser. Then he lowered his head slightly to address the little boy directly. “Keep practising, Ritchie,” he said. “Practice makes perfect.” He gave Ritchie an encouraging thumbs-up.

Dewey stood up to take his turn and shook his head. “Practice makes perfect,” he muttered sarcastically under his breath. _If this goes in the gutter again I’m quitting,_ he thought to himself as he tried his hardest to line up his aim. He closed first one eye, then the other, spinning the ball around in his hands and when he was satisfied he swung his arm back, took three running steps and released the ball…which immediately veered left and dropped straight into the gutter. Dewey threw his hands up in the air in despair.

Jack Huey could sense the impending explosion and picked up his and his partner’s shoes. “Um, happy birthday, Turnbull,” he said apologetically to the young Mountie. “It’s been, er…fun,” he said, “but I think it’s time Tom and I left now.”

“This is the stupidest bowling alley in the world!” exclaimed Dewey at the top of his voice. Jack tried to lead him by the shoulder, but he shrugged his partner away. “Next time we’re gonna play hockey,” he said angrily and marched towards the door, with Huey running after him. Just before they left the building, Dewey turned back and forced an apologetic smile onto his face when he saw Turnbull’s disappointed look. “Happy birthday, Turnbull!” he called out and Turnbull waved an acknowledgement as the two detectives disappeared out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

“Never mind him,” said Ray, giving a bemused Turnbull an encouraging slap on the back. “C’mon, it’s your turn again.”

Turnbull was starting to realise that he would never understand Americans.

“Turnbull, you only got six last time,” Meg spoke loudly as Turnbull selected a ball. “You’re carrying the reputation of the RCMP on your shoulders; pick up your game.”

Turnbull froze to the spot and the colour drained from his face. _The reputation of the RCMP?_ Nothing in his life was more important to him than that. He felt as if he was going to faint.

“That was a bit mean, I thought he did great,” sneered Francesca. 

Meg was about to snap a terse reply to the civilian woman in the ridiculous pink bowling shoes, but Fraser stepped in – literally – putting himself between the two fiery women. 

Fraser looked from Meg’s face to Francesca’s and immediately regretted his decision. “Er, um,” he mumbled, using every ounce of his strength to stop himself running away. “Er, I understand, Sir, that Constable Turnbull’s previous bowling experience lies with the traditional Canadian five pin variety. As does mine,” he explained. “He is having a little trouble adjusting.”

“Well you’re not having any trouble,” Meg pointed out.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” said Turnbull, hanging his head in shame. “I will try harder to apply my knowledge and experience of five pin bowling to this game in a manner more becoming of an officer of the RCMP.”

“Give the guy a break; it’s his birthday!” said Welsh, feeling uncharacteristically sorry for the young Mountie.

Meg glanced at Turnbull; he looked like a puppy expecting another good kicking from an abusive owner. Was that really how she made him feel? “Yes…yes, of course,” replied Meg. She felt her face flush when she saw the disapproving looks on the faces of everyone else in the group. Her competitive nature had got the better of her again and she’d unwittingly shown a rather ugly side of her personality. “Just do your best, Turnbull.”

“Always, Sir,” replied Turnbull with a tiny bow of his head and he took his turn, scoring a perfectly respectable eight.

Ray leaned over to Fraser. “What’s five pin bowling?” he asked.

“It’s very similar to ten pin bowling,” explained Fraser, “except there are only five pins.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks, buddy,” sneered Ray. “I, er, I kinda figured that much out already.”

“Sorry, Ray,” replied Fraser, “but I thought perhaps you wouldn’t be interested in a more detailed explanation.

“Some details would be OK,” replied Ray, warily, as Welsh stood up to take his turn.

Fraser’s face lit up. “Ah, well, five pin bowling is a sport played exclusively in Canada,” he began. “It was devised by Thomas F Ryan in 1909. The pins are approximately seventy five per cent of the size of those used in the ten pin variety and are arranged in a V formation. Each pin is worth either two, three or five points depending on its position, thus giving more scope for strategic play.”

Ray’s eyes had started to glaze over. “That’s really, er, interesting, Fraser,” he said unconvincingly.

“We play with hand sized balls,” added Fraser.

“Oh, OK, now that is interesting,” grinned Ray. “Next time we get sent to Canada for a boring conference I might give it a try.”

“I’d be more than willing to introduce you to Canadian sport, Ray,” replied Fraser.

“Well, it’s gotta be more exciting than curling,” retorted Ray.

Turnbull had been applauding Welsh for throwing another strike, but stopped when he heard Ray’s disrespectful comment. He was about to protest, but he was distracted by Francesca.

“Frase, could you please help me with my technique?” she smiled, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“I’d be delighted,” replied Fraser, oblivious – as usual – to her blatant attempt at flirting.

Meg couldn’t bear to watch as Francesca tricked Fraser into standing close behind her, reaching around her with one arm to help her with her aim and using his other hand to adjust the position of her hips in an effort to improve her score.

The Inspector went to order some more drinks from Candy and was soon joined by Lieutenant Welsh.

“Is it over yet?” she asked the Lieutenant.

“The whole evening, or are we talking about Miss Vecchio placing Fraser’s hands all over her body?” replied Welsh with his eyebrows raised.

“Both,” answered Meg.

“I think the Duck Boys had the right idea,” noted Welsh. He started to wonder if the Captain’s Cocktail Soiree might not have been a better bet after all.

Candy was pouring a Diet Coke for Meg, but she seemed very distracted. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the clock on the wall behind her.

“When the big hand is on the nine it’s a quarter to,” Meg pointed out with a hint of sarcasm, assuming the blonde was having difficulty telling the time.

“Yeah,” replied Candy, still not paying any attention to what she was doing. “That’s kinda what I thought.” She started to bite her lip nervously, oblivious to the fact that the glass was now overflowing.

“Hey!” exclaimed Meg as the sticky liquid spilled all over the counter, but Candy didn’t respond.

The group of teenagers let out another huge cheer as one of their group scored a strike and the noise finally snapped Candy out of her trance.

“Oh my god!” she squealed, realising the mess she’d made. “I am so sorry.” She grabbed a cloth and started mopping up the spillage.

“Are you counting down to the end of your shift?” asked Welsh with a chuckle, remembering how he’d done the same thing himself every day when he worked in a diner to pay his way through the Academy.

“Er, yeah,” smiled Candy. “I mean, no. What time is it?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “It’s a quarter to ten,” she replied, speaking deliberately slowly.

“Oh,” Candy replied, biting her lip again and she continued pouring drinks.

Back at the lane, Ray had just taken his turn again. “Oh jeez, the machine’s busted!” he exclaimed suddenly and he kicked the console. “Now we’ve lost all the scores!”

Turnbull looked up at the blank screen despondently.

“Of course now that your team has lost two members the only fair thing would be to start again with two teams of three,” Fraser pointed out as he pressed buttons on the console in an attempt to bring it back to life.

“OK, we’ll have you, Fraser,” said Ray, quickly.

Fraser nodded, but Meg had heard the end of the conversation as she returned with the drinks. 

“Constable Fraser is staying on our team,” Meg stated. “You can have Francesca.”

Francesca let out a whimper.

“It’s nothing personal,” added Meg.

Francesca folded her arms sulkily and reluctantly agreed. 

“Come on, Miss Vecchio,” said Welsh, with a grin, “we’ll wipe the floor with these Canadians.”

Turnbull went to report the faulty scoring machine and soon returned with Dominic.

“Sorry guys,” said the young employee. “This happened last week. We’re still waiting for the repair man. I’ll see if I can get it working again, or you can move to another lane.” He produced a screwdriver from his back pocket and began removing the cover. “Oh I see,” he said and started poking at components.

“Do you have the schematics?” asked Fraser.

“Don’t need them,” shrugged Dominic. “This is pretty simple circuitry.”

Ray shook his head. _Freakazoid, he thought._

“It’s no different to your ability with an engine,” whispered Fraser. “I think your opinions are being unduly influenced by a stereotype.”

Ray had to concede that his buddy had a point. _Maybe I’m being too hard on the kid?_

Meg sat down and sighed. “If Dr Spock here doesn’t fix it in five minutes I’m leaving,” she hissed to Welsh.

“That’s Mr Spock, Sir,” Fraser pointed out in a low voice.

Meg scowled at him.

“Dr Spock is a renowned expert in early stage childcare,” explained Fraser. “I assume you were referring in this instance to the Star Trek character of Mr Spock. Don’t worry, it’s a common mistake.”

Before Meg could reply, she was distracted by a commotion at the desk. Three men and a woman had appeared and one of the men was arguing loudly with Candy. 

Fraser had noticed them too. Something was very wrong. Candy had been acting suspiciously all evening; this could be connected. “I’ll go and ask if I can be of assistance,” he said.

“No, I’ll go,” snapped Meg. She was not in the mood for watching Fraser playing the hero to another damsel in distress. She stood up, but didn’t get very far before the sound of three gunshots rang out.

Candy screamed, closely followed by Francesca and then the teenage girls in the adjacent lane screamed too as everyone threw themselves to the ground.

“Get up!” yelled the man who had fired the gun. “I’m not gonna shoot anyone so stop screaming. I’m trying to think.”

“There weren’t supposed to be people here, Karl,” said another of the new arrivals.

“I know that, Manny,” snapped Karl. “But your airhead of a girlfriend can’t tell the time.”

“I can too,” said Candy, indignantly, “but I got confused, that’s all.”

Karl sighed deeply and desperately tried to come up with a new plan. “Stewie, lock the doors,” he snapped. “Amy-Jo, get me a beer. I need it.”

Fraser glanced at Ray. “Do you have your boot gun?” he whispered to his buddy.

Ray pointed to the brightly coloured shoes on his feet. “I don’t even have my boots, Fraser!” he hissed.

“Sir?” Fraser looked hopefully at Lieutenant Welsh, but the older man just shook his head. It hadn’t occurred to the seasoned police officer to bring a weapon to Constable Turnbull’s birthday party.

 _No one holds up a bowling alley,_ thought Meg. _There’s more to this._ She looked at the four intruders who were arguing amongst themselves.

Fraser looked at the family with the two young boys in the lane next to them and tried to smile reassuringly.

“OK people, listen up!” shouted Karl, suddenly. “This is a robbery. Hand over your wallets.”

Fraser and Ray exchanged a glance. This made no sense at all. A few minutes ago the robbers admitted they hadn’t been expecting anyone to be in the building.

“Don’t just stand there, Manny,” Karl snapped to his accomplice. “Get everyone’s wallets.”

“What shall I put them in?” asked Manny.

“I don’t know!” Karl exclaimed. “Think of something.”

“I have an old box here,” said Candy, nervously. “Will that do?” 

“Yeah, thanks babe,” smiled Manny and he went around collecting wallets. He got to Fraser and waited.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have a wallet,” explained Fraser. “I keep my money in my hat.”

“Oh. Er…well put your hat in the box then,” shrugged Manny.

Fraser picked up his Stetson and tried to put it into the box, but it didn’t fit.

Manny looked at Karl for advice. 

“Take the money out of the hat!” yelled Karl. “Do I have to think of everything?”

“Right, boss,” nodded Manny and he handed Fraser back his Stetson, minus the few dollars he had removed from inside.

“OK, now everyone just sit there and be quiet,” said Karl.

“Excuse me,” said Fraser. “Now that you have our money, why don’t you just leave?”

“Because we like it here,” replied Karl. “Now stop asking stupid questions.”

“These are the dumbest perps I’ve ever seen,” whispered Ray to the others. “We can take them down, guns or no guns. We’re cops. Let’s do it.”

“And risk the lives of these civilians?” asked Inspector Thatcher. 

Ray’s face fell. He’d been looking forward to arresting Karl and his goons.

“Besides, I’m not sure that we’re seeing the whole picture here, Ray,” added Fraser.

“Fraser’s right,” said Welsh. “These morons aren’t here to rob a bowling alley. Something else is going on, something big. We go in now and all we can bust ‘em for is stealing a few wallets.”

“Ooh, do you think they might be undercover terrorists, or international drug smugglers, or something?” asked Francesca.

Meg looked at her. “No,” she replied. “They’re idiots.”

“But they’re most likely working for someone else,” noted Fraser. “We should wait and see what happens. Although I’m not at all comfortable about the number of innocent civilians involved here. Including you, Francesca.”

Francesca smiled and grabbed his arm. “Don’t worry about me,” she whispered. “I know you’ll protect me.”

Meg rolled her eyes and Welsh sniggered. 

“Excuse me,” Fraser called out again, before anyone could stop him. “May I ask why you need so many hostages? As a gesture of goodwill you could let this family and this group of young people go free.”

“Will you shut up!” yelled Karl. “I’m in charge here. I decide what we’re going to do.”

“We could let the kids go. I didn’t get into this to hurt kids, or women,” said Stewie. “If we just keep the mouthy guy in the hat and his buddies, that’s enough, isn’t it?”

“Whose side are you on?” snapped Karl.

Stewie sighed. He was starting to regret getting involved in Karl’s scheme. This was supposed to be easy money. If only Candy had told them the right time they wouldn’t be in this mess. 

Manny was regretting it too, now. He was happy with the original plan, but it was all different. He had to do something to take his mind off how nervous he was getting. “Can I play?” he asked Candy. “Fire up lane five for me, babe.”

Karl couldn’t think of a good reason why Manny shouldn’t bowl for a while. They still had an hour to wait, he realised, so at least it might stop him doing something stupid. 

Manny tucked his gun into his waistband with a grin and went to select a ball.

“You should wear bowling shoes,” Dominic called out.

Ray winced. Manny seemed slightly crazy and a crazy guy with a gun was dangerous guy. The last thing they wanted to do was wind him up. He and Fraser instinctively moved protectively towards Dominic.

They needn’t have worried, though.

“Oh yeah,” nodded Manny. “Size ten.”

“Second shelf down, third from the left,” called out Dominic.

“Thanks, man,” grinned Manny and went to get his shoes.

Ray couldn’t believe it. Who was this idiot? Karl had done this sort of thing before – that much was obvious – but Manny didn’t seem to be aware of the seriousness of what they were doing. Or maybe he was just crazy? Right now, who knew?

Manny persuaded three of the teenagers to bowl with him and for a while they forgot the dangerous situation they were in. Fraser hadn’t forgotten, though and he tried to think of the best way to get the civilians to safety.

“How do long do we have to sit around waiting?” Ray whispered impatiently to Welsh.

“As long as we have to, Detective,” replied Welsh.

Fraser glanced across at the Santini family in the lane next to them. Ritchie and his brother were sitting in between their parents eating chocolate. Julie was rubbing her back again when suddenly she screwed up her face in apparent pain.

“Contraction?” asked Fraser with concern, keeping his voice low.

Julie shrugged. “Maybe,” she replied. “I know I’ve done this all before – twice – but it’s been a while,” she added, nodding at her sons. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her rising panic at bay. “What am I going to do?”

“Please try not to worry,” replied Fraser reassuringly. He glanced over at Manny who was still engaged in his game of bowling and then at Karl who was deep in conversation with his other two cronies. Then he turned back to Julie and spoke in an even quieter voice. “My friends and I are police officers.”

Julie gasped.

Fraser put his finger to his lips. “Sshh, it’s imperative that you keep that knowledge to yourself for now,” he said.

Julie nodded.

“It appears that you are indeed in the early stages of labour,” continued Fraser. “If you feel things are progressing more rapidly than you’d expect then please alert me. I do have experience of delivering babies, if it should come to that.”

“I’m not having this baby in a bowling alley!” exclaimed Julie, louder than she had meant to.

Fraser’s head snapped round, but fortunately Karl and the others hadn’t noticed. “I share your sentiments,” replied Fraser, with a concerned nod. “Please just try to breathe and stay calm. We’ll have you out of here as soon as we can.”

Julie tried to smile, but inside she was terrified.

“What’s going on, buddy?” asked Ray.

“Mrs Santini has gone into labour,” replied Fraser.

“What?” exclaimed Ray. “That’s it, I’m done waiting, let’s bust these guys.”

He tried to stand up, but Fraser and Welsh grabbed a shoulder each and pulled him down.

“No,” snapped Welsh. “For once in your life will you please follow my orders!”

Ray was about to protest, but he was interrupted by a piercing scream from Manny.


	3. Chapter 3

“Jesus!” Manny yelled and hopped from one foot to the other. “I’m stuck! My goddam fingers!”

“Shut up, Manny,” replied Karl, dismissively, “and quit blaspheming.”

Fraser and Ray looked at each other in disbelief; the idiot had his fingers stuck firmly in a bowling ball.

Candy rushed over to help. “Try wriggling them,” she suggested.

“I tried that, babe,” whimpered Manny, “but it hurts too much. You gotta help me!”

“May I be of assistance?” Fraser asked, getting to his feet slowly with his hands in the air.

“No. Sit down,” snapped Karl.

“But your friend appears to be in some distress,” continued Fraser.

“Yeah, Karl. I’m in distress,” agreed Manny, his voice cracking. “Please, Karl. It hurts so much; I think I broke my fingers!”

“I think I can help,” offered Fraser.

“Stay out of it, buddy,” said Ray in a concerned voice. “D’ya wanna get yourself shot?”

“Let me do this, Ray,” replied Fraser under his breath. “I have an idea.”

“Please, Karl,” begged Manny. “I’m dying here!”

“OK, OK,” relented Karl.

Fraser nodded an acknowledgement and went over to Manny and Candy to assess the situation. Manny had forced his fingers into the holes in the ball and the more he’d struggled the more swollen they’d become.

“I don’t think any of the fingers are broken,” explained Fraser. “Try to keep still,” he urged.

Manny nodded and watched as Fraser reached into his pocket, but immediately Karl’s gun was in the Mountie’s face. “Oh no you don’t,” he snarled.

“I’m unarmed,” explained Fraser. “I’m reaching for something will help Manny out of his predicament.”

“Slowly,” replied Karl suspiciously and Fraser nodded as he produced a small jar from his pocket.

“What is it?” asked Manny.

Fraser unscrewed the lid of the jar and Candy wrinkled up her face in disgust as the smell wafted under her nose. 

“It’s made from the substance excreted by the male harp seal when…” began Fraser, but then he remembered that Ray often found such details inexplicably offensive so he stopped short of listing the ingredients. “I carry it in case of emergency,” he explained to puzzled looks from everyone. “It’s very good for releasing seized door hinges and the like.”

“Great,” Manny managed to muster a grin through the pain. “So get my fingers outta this stupid ball!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” replied Fraser, flatly.

“What?” exclaimed Manny. “But you said you’d help me!”

“And I will,” replied Fraser, “but not until you release the other hostages. You have no need to detain all of these people. My friends and I will remain.”

“Hey, I’m the one with the gun here!” replied Karl, angrily. “You don’t get to make demands.”

“In that case I am unable to help Manny any further,” said Fraser, getting to his feet.

“Karl, please!” Manny was begging again. “My fingers hurt like hell and I’m gonna need both my hands to do the bomb.”

Fraser froze, every muscle in his body tensed. A bomb? He hadn’t been expecting that at all. He glanced at Ray, Welsh and the others. Suddenly the situation had changed. As they’d suspected all along this wasn’t just a bungled robbery, this was something far more dangerous.

“Shut up you moron!” Karl yelled at Manny. He wished his companion would learn to keep his big mouth shut.

Fraser swallowed hard and spoke again. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” he admitted, “but I don’t believe it was ever your intention to put anyone’s lives at risk, particularly those of children.”

“Yeah,” admitted Manny. “C’mon Karl, let the kids go. It wasn’t meant to go down like this.”

“Manny’s in pain, Karl and this guy can help,” added Candy in a quiet voice. 

“No one said anything to me about hostages,” piped up Amy-Jo, the only female in Karl’s group.

“Alright, alright,” sighed Karl. He was starting to panic. They had a job to do and now he was starting to lose control of the situation. “You,” he pointed to the Santini family. “Get the hell outta here and if you go anywhere near the cops I’ll start shooting these people, starting with this guy.” He waived his gun in Fraser’s direction.

Julie Santini’s husband helped her to her feet and then picked up both of his boys, balancing one on each hip and they hugged their father tightly around the neck as he ran with them towards the exit. Julie followed behind as fast as she could as another contraction surged through her. She hadn’t told her husband that she was in labour yet so he was going to be in for a shock in a few minutes. As she passed Fraser she mouthed a silent, “Thank you,” and Fraser nodded and smiled and breathed a sigh of relief as they safely left the bowling alley.

“Thank you, Karl,” said Fraser and he returned to Manny, using the ointment to slowly release his swollen fingers from their confinement. 

Manny was so relieved to have the use of his fingers back he hugged a stunned Fraser and then hugged and kissed Candy. 

Fraser slowly walked back to join Ray and the others.

“Hey, you could let us go too, y’know!” shouted one of the teenage boys in the group. 

Fraser winced. He could tell that Karl was becoming agitated and the last thing they needed was for anyone to push him too far.

“Shut up, Donnie,” said one of the boy’s friends, anxiously.

“You should listen to your pal, Donnie,” sneered Karl. 

“They’re just kids,” said Welsh. “Let them go. There are six of us. We’re not going to cause you any trouble.”

Inspector Thatcher glanced sideways at the Lieutenant. That was exactly what they were planning to do, wasn’t it? While Fraser had been distracting Karl and Manny, she had been discussing ideas with Welsh and Ray. Turnbull hadn’t really been much help, but he was prepared to join in with whatever plan they came up with, when they eventually came up with something. The realisation that there was a bomb in the large grey holdall Manny had carried in with him had, of course, intensified the seriousness of the situation. Welsh was still keen to hold back with the prospect of capturing the brains of the operation, whoever that was. Ray could see the benefit in waiting, but his impatience was driving him crazy. He wanted to jump on these morons and get this whole thing over with.

“OK, so now my motormouth pal has told you about our plans,” said Karl suddenly, thinking on his feet. He glanced at the clock. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. Manny has some work to do, you’re all gonna stay here and shut the hell up.”

“Er, Karl,” said Manny. He was rubbing his swollen fingers gently and wincing at the pain. “I can’t do it with my fingers like this. I can’t do the wiring.”

“I’ll help,” offered Fraser, quickly. “But only if you let the young people go.”

“No,” snapped Karl. He didn’t trust Fraser. This guy wasn’t acting normally; he was being too helpful, too eager to please. He was willing to risk his own safety to keep a group of teenagers he’d never met before out of danger. People didn’t do that in Chicago. It didn’t make any sense.

“I can do it,” said Dominic, he voice shaking as he spoke. “But like he said, only if you let the others go.”

“Sit down, son,” said Welsh and Ray nodded in agreement with his Lieutenant.

“It’s OK, I know what I’m doing,” replied Dominic. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Karl couldn’t hear what he was saying. “I’m going to try to create a distraction. Then you can call the cops.”

Ray sighed. “Kid, we are the cops,” he hissed under his breath.

Dominic looked stunned.

“We’ve got this, OK,” added Ray. “Stay out of it.”

“Then why are we still here?” asked Dominic. He couldn’t believe that there had been cops in the building this whole time.

“We’re waiting for a suitable moment,” replied Fraser. “Provoking them at this juncture may not be advisable.”

“Then I’ll give you that moment,” said Dominic, earnestly.

“For goodness sake, they have a bomb!” exclaimed Inspector Thatcher, as quietly as she could. “We want to arrest them, not blow the place to smithereens.”

Dominic stood straighter and tried to puff his chest out courageously. “It’s what Captain Kirk would do,” he said.

“Captain Kirk would blow up a bowling alley?” queried Turnbull.

“I don’t think that’s quite what the kid meant,” replied Welsh. “Look, son, don’t try to be a hero.”

Dominic suddenly shrunk back into himself. “I…I don’t think I can be a hero,” he said, sheepishly. 

“What are you all chatting about?” asked Karl who had been distracted helping Manny unpack some tools and equipment.

“Come on, kiddo, if you’re gonna help with this thing,” said Karl impatiently. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Are…are you going to let them go?” asked Dominic, nodding towards Donnie and his group.

“Yes, for god’s sake, I’ll let them go,” Karl threw his arms in the air in despair. He was meant to be making the decisions here, but now some skinny teenager was calling the shots. “Go on, before I change my mind,” he yelled.

Donnie and his friends ran out of the bowling alley making rude hand gestures at Karl as they left. Karl fired a single warning shot at the wall as they ran past, mostly out of frustration, but it also served to remind everyone that he was serious and that he had a loaded gun in his hand. The situation was in danger of becoming a farce; he had to show he was still in charge

“Candy tells me you’re good with wires and stuff,” said Manny and Dominic nodded.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” said Karl. “You’re going to go downstairs and help Manny do whatever it is he needs to do with this bomb. Amy-Jo here is coming with you and I think you with the big mouth should go too,” he pointed at Fraser. “For insurance, if you get my drift.”

“I think I do,” replied Fraser.

“And your girlfriend too,” added Karl, pointing to Francesca. “If you try anything, Amy-Jo will shoot her first.”

“My…my girlfriend?” queried Fraser, glancing at Francesca. “She’s not…she’s not my…”

“Actually I’m with him,” said Thatcher suddenly. “I mean, he and I are together. So I’ll be the insurance…because I’m his girlfriend and not her. Isn’t that right, honey?” Her eyes widened in a ‘play along’ gesture.

“Oh, er, yes of course…er, h…honey,” replied Fraser, wincing as the words left his mouth.

Francesca bit hard on her lip. She assumed that this was part of a plan and she hadn’t just experienced some kind of announcement, but even so it was hard to hear and even harder to see the Inspector slip her arm around Fraser’s and squeeze it tightly.

“OK, let’s do this!” said Manny excitedly.

Ray didn’t like to see just how excited Manny was. This guy was clearly one sandwich short of a picnic and he had a bomb in a bag. Ray twitched and looked at Welsh for permission to act now, but the Lieutenant gave a small shake of his head.

Fraser, Thatcher, Dominic and Manny headed towards the stairwell with Amy-Jo walking behind them with her gun in her hand.

Candy called after them. “Can I come too?” she asked. “I’ve never seen a real bomb before.” She made it sound as if she was going to see some cute puppies, not a deadly appliance.

“Sure babe,” smiled Manny and Candy skipped over to join him, kissing him and squealing with excitement as they disappeared out of the door.


	4. Chapter 4

“OK you two, sit there and keep your mouths shut,” said Amy-Jo waving her gun at Fraser and Meg when they all got to the basement. “And you,” she added, pointing at Candy.

“Hey, I’m not a hostage,” whined Candy. “I’m one of your gang.”

“We’re not a gang,” retorted Amy-Jo. “Sit down.”

“Leave her alone, she’s my girl,” Manny said angrily, getting to his feet as he spoke and Candy smiled triumphantly at Amy-Jo.

“Get on with whatever it is you have to do and leave me to do my job,” snapped Amy-Jo. “I just want to get my share of the money and get out of here.”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Candy stomped across to the other woman with her hands on her hips.

Amy-Jo’s patience finally ran out and she span round, her arms flailing wildly, ready for a argument, but she hadn’t realised that Candy had got so close to her. Before she could stop herself, Amy-Jo caught Candy on the side of the head with the butt of her gun, sending the younger woman sprawling across the floor.

“Oh my god! You killed her!” exclaimed Manny and he ran at Amy-Jo, grabbing her by the throat.

Immediately Fraser ran to them and pulled them apart. “Please, the young woman is not dead,” he explained. 

“Sit down!” Amy-Jo screamed at him. She really wished she’d stop getting herself involved in Karl’s schemes. This was the stupidest plan he’d ever come up with and his buddy Manny might well be good with bombs, but he was a moron who was going to get them all killed one of these days. Possibly today.

“Let me help her,” pleaded Fraser, glancing at Candy who was out cold on the hard floor.

“I’ll help her,” said Meg suddenly. She didn’t want Fraser getting his hands on any of that exposed, young flesh and before Amy-Jo could stop her, Meg was kneeling beside Candy and rolling her onto her side. “There, she’ll be fine in a few minutes,” explained Meg. “Now, I believe you have a bomb to set.”

Manny, scowled at Amy-Jo and went back to join Dominic, who had already started to work on the bomb.

“So, um, um…what are we blowing up here, exactly?” Dominic asked, nervously.

“This wall,” replied Manny. “According to the boss, there’s treasure behind it.” His eyes lit up with childish excitement as he spoke.

“What kind of treasure?” asked Dominic as he snipped the ends of some wires.

“Dunno,” shrugged Manny. “Karl wouldn’t tell me. He says I can’t keep my big mouth shut.”

“He has a point,” sneered Amy-Jo. “Don’t tell everyone the plan, just get that thing wired up quickly.” She looked at her watch nervously. “He’ll be here in half an hour and he’s not going to hang around.”

“Who are you waiting for?” asked Fraser.

“The boss,” replied Manny. “Karl wouldn’t tell me his name, but I heard him and Stewie talking. It’s some guy named Dankworth. Walter Dankworth, I think.”

Fraser had heard that name before. Walter J Dankworth was a well-known associate of various mob bosses and the Chicago PD had quite a history with him. His legal team had done a very good job of keeping him out of jail so far, of course, but maybe that was about to change? Fraser glanced at Inspector Thatcher, but if she did recognise Dankworth’s name she wasn’t letting it show. The Inspector wasn’t as familiar with the criminals of Chicago as he was, though, Fraser realised. He would have to explain it to her later.

“I’m probably going to get fired for helping you,” continued Dominic as he worked carefully, trying to concentrate on the electronic timer and not on the lump of Semtex attached to the other end of the wires. “Which sucks, because I love my job,” he added.

“You love your job?” queried Amy-Jo, incredulously. “You handle stinky shoes that have been on people’s sweaty feet. I can’t think of anything more gross.”

“I love shoes,” replied Dominic. “Shoes are fascinating. Did you know that the earliest known example of a shoe was discovered in a cave in Oregon? It dates from about 7,000 BC.”

“I did not know that,” replied Manny, genuinely interested.

“And…and the European espadrilles have been around since the Middle Ages,” continued Dominic.

Meg shook her head. This was one weird kid. He was obsessed with Star Trek and shoes. _These are the kinds of loners who wind up stalking women, or worse,_ she thought to herself. She sighed. Maybe that was unfair of her, but if this was the distraction he was talking about earlier, it wasn’t going to work. Unless Amy-Jo and Manny fall asleep through boredom, a conversation about shoes wasn’t going to be enough. She glanced at Fraser. If it wasn’t for the bomb, she felt sure he would have taken control of the situation by now, but the presence of the explosive device complicated matters. Besides, Fraser seemed fascinated by the shoe conversation. _If he mentions Inuit shoes…_

“The mukluks worn by the Inuit are traditionally made of reindeer or seal skin,” said Fraser.

Meg closed her eyes and sighed.

“And of course the Dutch wear wooden clogs, traditionally called…” Dominic paused and stared wide eyed at Fraser before continuing, “…sabots.”

“OK, enough of this,” said Amy-Jo. “Are you done yet?”

“Almost,” said Manny. “This kid is good. You just gotta attach the red wire to the…” but he stopped talking suddenly and froze, staring at the bomb. “What the hell did you do?” he exclaimed.

The timer was counting down.

“I…I… I’m sorry. It was an accident,” stammered Dominic.

“This thing is gonna blow!” exclaimed Manny. “Get outta here!” He scrambled to his feet.

Fraser seized on a stunned Manny and pushed him against the wall with his hands pulled tightly behind his back.

“What the hell are you doing?” yelled Manny. “The bomb! We’re all gonna die!”

“I don’t believe we are,” replied Fraser, calmly. “At least, not at this particular juncture.”

“What?” Amy-Jo tried to run, but in the panic, Meg was able to grab her arm, snatching her gun from her hand as she did so and pushing her to her knees.

They all turned and silently watched the last few seconds of the timer counting down. As the bright red digits clicked over to zero, Amy-Jo closed her eyes and Manny tensed every muscle in his body, waiting for the impending explosion…but nothing happened.

Puzzled, Manny turned his head to Dominic. “You…you little…” he began, but his anger towards the younger man was soon replaced by even more anger towards the man who currently had him pinned against the wall. “Let me go!” he yelled at Fraser.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” replied Fraser. “I’m making a citizen’s arrest.”

“Citizen’s arrest?” queried Dominic. “I thought you said you were a cop.”

“You’re a cop!” exclaimed Manny.

“Well yes, that’s true,” agreed Fraser. “Unfortunately I have no arrest authority outside of the Dominion of Canada.”

“Me neither,” admitted Meg. “So I’m also making a citizen’s arrest,” she said, smiling triumphantly at Amy-Jo.

Fraser turned to Dominic. “Nice work, son,” he said, with an appreciative nod.

Dominic breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad you got the Star Trek VI reference,” he said with a grin.

Fraser looked puzzled. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” he said.

“You know, in the Undiscovered Country when Lieutenant Valeris suggests they go to rescue Kirk and Bones by pretending the Enterprise is malfunctioning,” continued Dominic. “So she explains the origin of the word sabotage. I knew you’d get it when I started talking about wooden clogs. I used my earring to bypass the circuit.”

“Oh, I see,” replied Fraser. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen that particular movie. However I remember reading a delightful book in my grandmother’s library all about European footwear. The explanation was in there.”

Only Fraser would choose to read a book about European footwear as a child, Meg realised, wondering again what exactly it was she saw in this man.

Candy made a groaning noise as she started to come round. Dominic went to help her to her feet.

“I believe it’s time to break the news to Karl,” said Fraser, loosening his grip on Manny slightly.

“He’s gonna be mad,” replied Manny.

Meg picked up Amy-Jo’s gun from the floor and dragged the woman to her feet. “Don’t try anything stupid,” she said and Amy-Jo nodded. She knew this thing was over and, despite being under arrest, she was secretly quite relieved.

Upstairs in the bowling alley, Turnbull was getting very nervous. He was so disappointed that his birthday evening had been ruined and now he was worried about his fellow Mounties. “I’m concerned about Constable Fraser and Inspector Thatcher,” he whispered to Ray.

“Quit worrying; they’ll be fine,” replied Ray as reassuringly as he could.

“How long does it take to blow something up?” asked Francesca. She was worried about them too – mostly about Fraser.

“Do you people ever stop talking?” snapped Karl, looking at his watch. _Dankworth will be here soon; what the hell was Manny doing down there?_ Dankworth had made it quite clear to Karl that he wanted to walk in, take the loot and leave. He wasn’t going to wait around while they unloaded it all.

Karl’s thoughts were interrupted by the door to the back stairwell opening. Amy-Jo and Manny were standing there silently.

“What are you doing?” asked Karl. “I didn’t hear the bomb go off?”

“Er, there was a problem,” replied Amy-Jo, meekly.

Ray was poised to act. _Finally,_ he thought.

Then Amy-Jo and Manny stepped forward revealing Fraser and Meg. Meg was holding the gun to Amy-Jo’s head.

“Lay your weapons on the floor,” ordered Meg.

Karl hesitated.

“They’re cops,” explained Amy-Jo with a sigh.

“Cops?” repeated Stewie in disbelief. Amy-Jo nodded.

Karl couldn’t believe it. _No wonder that guy with the hat was so mouthy._ He looked over at Stewie and nodded dejectedly. It was over. They both slowly put their guns down on the floor.

Turnbull ran over and collected the weapons, while Ray and Welsh arrested Karl and Stewie.

“They’re working for Walter J Dankworth,” explained Fraser.

Ray looked at his Lieutenant. They’d been right about someone big being behind all of this.

“Real lowlife, likes to hang out with some of the biggest crime scumbags in the city,” Ray explained to Turnbull who was looking puzzled.

“Wow, I thought he left town after he got that murder charge dropped,” said Francesca who was well aware of the reputation of the man.

“I guess not,” replied Ray. He looked at Karl, Manny, Amy-Jo and Stewie who were now sitting back to back on the filthy carpet. “So, er, where did he find you clowns?” he asked. “Rent-A-Moron?” Ray grinned at his own joke.

Stewie tried to get up and retaliate, but Karl held him back.

“I know a guy who knows a guy who knows Dankworth,” said Karl by way of explanation. “Y’know how it is.”

Welsh and Ray nodded. They knew exactly how it worked in this town. Guys like Dankworth hired small time muscle to do their dirty work. He always made sure there was no way of tying things back to him, of course. It was no-risk crime; easy money.

“But we don’t know anything,” continued Karl, desperately trying to distance himself from the serious crimes he knew Dankworth was involved in. “We were hired to blow a hole in the wall. That’s all.”

“What’s behind the wall?” asked Francesca, surprised no one had asked it already.

“We don’t know,” answered Karl.

“It’s treasure,” replied Manny, with a smile.

“Don’t be stupid,” retorted Stewie. “It’s probably drugs, or something dumb like that. Guns, maybe?”

“But we’ve all heard the stories,” continued Manny, getting more and more excited. “They say there’s treasure down there.”

“You mean, like pieces of eight?” queried Turnbull.

“Pirates don’t bury their treasure in a bowling alley,” responded Francesca and Turnbull quickly realised how stupid his statement had been.

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Karl.

“Hey, show some respect to my people,” snapped Welsh. “Just tell us what’s down there.”

“No one knows for sure,” replied Karl. “As far as we know there’s a stash of gold bars and jewellery hidden in the wall. It was put there in the thirties by one of Frank Nitti’s associates. Ever since they found that haul at the St. Fortuna school a couple years back there have been rumours of more all over the city. Dankworth said he had real evidence for this place though - a bracelet, I think. He had it authenticated as belonging to Kitty Milward, one of Nitti’s molls.”

“Moles?” queried Turnbull.

“No, molls. Female companions, in the local parlance,” explained Fraser. 

As Welsh, Ray and Meg discussed what to do next, Fraser explained the history of the previous find to Dominic. He and the real Ray Vecchio had been involved in the incident at St. Fortuna where a huge amount of vintage weapons and jewellery had been hidden under the building for over sixty years. As far as Fraser was aware, though, a task force had been set up afterwards to follow up other leads, but had come up empty handed. 

“You went undercover as a woman?” exclaimed Dominic.

“It was a girls’ school,” explained Fraser. “I had little choice.”

Dominic tried – and failed – to stifle a snigger.

“So Walter J Dankworth has a contact who can authenticate these finds,” said Meg. 

“Apparently so,” replied Welsh. “I think I’d like a chat with him.”

Welsh turned back to Karl and his gang. “OK you bozos,” he said. “Now, I figure you don’t really want to go to jail, do you?”

“No,” replied Manny. “Well, I don’t anyway. What about you guys?”

“No of course I don’t want to go to jail, you moron!” exclaimed Stewie in disbelief.

“We could just leave you here until Dankworth shows up,” suggested Ray. “You didn’t really think he was just gonna let y’all go after he got what he wanted, did you?”

Karl shrugged. Dankworth had talked the talk. He’d convinced Karl that he would be true to his word and that this job would be very lucrative. Maybe he had been a fool to trust Dankworth after all. Greed had got the better of him. Right now Karl felt like a bigger idiot than Manny. 

“So, can we go now?” asked Manny, hopefully.

_OK, maybe Manny is still the bigger idiot after all._

“What do you think, Detective? Shall I let them go?” Welsh replied sarcastically. He paused for a moment. “Hmmm…no, of course not!” he finished, eventually. “However, I think we can reach an understanding here. You scratch our backs and we’ll scratch yours.”

Karl nodded understandingly, but Manny still looked puzzled. “I don’t have an itch?” he said.

“Jesus, Manny,” exclaimed Karl. “If we help the cops get Dankworth we’ll get a deal.”

“Oh. Cool,” grinned Manny. He glanced over to where Dominic had been taking care of Candy. “You OK, babe?” he called out to his girlfriend who was sitting up, sipping water.

“Uh-huh,” replied Candy. “What did I miss? What’s going on?”

“I’m not completely sure,” admitted Manny, “but we’re not going to jail now, so it’s OK.”

“Jail!” exclaimed Candy.

“Quiet,” commanded Welsh. “You two lovebirds can chat later. Dankworth is going to show up any minute. Listen to me, here’s what’s going to happen.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Please, let me stay. I can help,” Francesca pleaded.

“No,” replied Thatcher, abruptly. “Too dangerous.”

“You’ve gotta get Candy and Dominic here to safety, Frannie,” added Ray quickly before the two women could start bickering again. “It’s an important job, they’re key witnesses. Here, take my car.”

A smile danced at the corners of Francesca’s mouth as she took Ray’s keys from him. It was a very important job; they were trusting her to do this and Ray was trusting her with his car too. This was a great opportunity to prove herself. “Of course,” she nodded seriously. “I’ll take them straight to the station.”

“Please ensure that Candy is examined by a doctor,” said Fraser. “She doesn’t appear to have a concussion, but she still seems very confused. It’s concerning.”

“She’s an airhead, Fraser,” said Meg, snarkily. “She’s permanently confused.”

“Don’t worry, Frase,” smiled Francesca, “I’ll take care of everything.”

“OK, so Detectives Huey and Dewey are organising the operation from the outside,” said Welsh walking over to join them. “They’re on their way now with backup, but Dankworth is due any minute. Constable, come with me. Detective, get into your position.”

“Er, can we go over the plan again, please?” asked Turnbull, nervously.

“There’s no time!” exclaimed Meg in despair. “Just follow my lead. We’re just ordinary people enjoying an evening of bowling.”

Turnbull nodded profusely and picked up a bowling ball. He wasn’t good at undercover and he’d broken into a sweat already. His job was to protect the civilians, even though they were criminals. He took that responsibility very seriously.

Meg looked at Manny, Amy-Jo and Stewie. They were going to act like a group of friends out for a social evening and only get involved if there was any trouble. Everyone understood the plan and the consequences if they didn’t go along with it.

“In ten minutes this place will be surrounded by my people,” Welsh spoke directly to Karl now. “You try any funny business and the deal’s off, got it?”

“Loud and clear,” replied Karl. He was nervous. Really nervous; Dankworth terrified him. They’d met once only to make the final arrangements and the mobster had been accompanied by two heavily armed bodyguards. If Dankworth suspected for a moment that he was being double crossed tonight, Karl knew he’d be dead before these cops could do anything about it. 

“It’s time, Sir,” said Fraser. 

“Good luck, Constable,” replied Welsh and Fraser nodded. 

Fraser had volunteered to act as Karl’s associate and hand over the loot. In reality they’d filled the holdalls with bowling balls, but hopefully it would all be over before Dankworth realised that. Karl had his gun tucked into his belt in full view, but the barrel was empty. Ray and Welsh had reloaded two of the other guns and had taken up cover positions. Fraser, of course, had refused the option of a gun and Inspector Thatcher had done the same, although secretly she was regretting it now. She knew Fraser would be disappointed in her if she agreed to carry a gun without having filed the proper paperwork, even under these circumstances.

Suddenly the door burst open and Walter J Dankworth walked into the bowling alley like he owned it. He was flanked on either side by the same two guys that Karl had seen him with before. They were both well over six feet tall and almost as wide. They were in expensive dark suits and each wore a shoulder holster containing a high spec gun complete with silencer which they made sure everyone could see.

“Hi, Karl. It’s good to see you again,” began Dankworth with a smarmy smile. “I trust everything went smoothly?” He surveyed his surroundings and noticed the group bowling in Lane four. “I thought you said this place would be closed,” he said.

“They’re just finishing a game; they haven’t given us any trouble.” replied Karl, trying to sound confident. “The job went to plan. It was all there, just like you said it would be.”

“My sources are very reliable,” replied Dankworth.

Karl turned to Fraser and nodded towards the two large holdalls. Fraser dutifully played his part, picking up the heavy bags and offering them to Dankworth.

Dankworth clicked his fingers and one of his bodyguards stepped forward and took the bags. 

“I suppose you’d like your money, now?” asked Dankworth, casually.

“Um, um…” stammered Karl. 

Dankworth laughed. “Don’t look so nervous,” he said. “Anything you’ve heard about me is untrue,” he added. “I’m a fair man. I pay a fair price.”

“S…sorry,” replied Karl. He’d heard a lot about Dankworth and very little of it was to do with fairness. He wished he’d done more research before he’d told his old friend that they’d do this job. Well it was too late now. He just hoped these cops really did have his back. “I want to get out of here, that’s all,” he said, trying to hurry the proceedings along.

“So do I,” nodded Dankworth in agreement. “Riggs, pay the man.”

Karl tried to breathe as the burly man to Dankworth’s left reached into his pocket. 

From their hiding places Ray and Welsh tensed, hoping Karl’s ‘payment’ wasn’t going to come from the business end of a concealed weapon. They needn’t have worried as Riggs produced a brown envelope stuffed with cash and handed it to Karl.

“Thank you,” said Karl. He wished they would just leave now, but deep down he knew Dankworth would want to inspect the merchandise first and he was right.

“McSweeny,” said the mobster and clicked his fingers again. The man to his right crouched down and unzipped one of the bags.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” smiled Dankworth, “but you do understand that there are a lot of untrustworthy people in this business.”

Karl nodded and took a few small steps backwards.

Fraser glanced towards Ray’s hiding place and Ray gave a nod. This was it. Things were about to get messy and they were ready.

“Er…boss…” began Dankworth’s henchman in disbelief when he saw the contents of the bag. _This stupid little guy is trying to rip off Walter J Dankworth!_

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Riggs and McSweeny pulled out their guns, but before either of them could get a shot off, they were both taken completely by surprise as Ray and Welsh opened fire. Ray caught Riggs in the shoulder and the large man’s gun flew out of his hand as he stumbled to the floor. Welsh’s shot caught McSweeny in the leg and he collapsed to his knees.

Dankworth produced his own gun and Fraser quickly pulled Karl to safety as he fired off two shots. 

Then suddenly it was all over. Thatcher and Turnbull ran at the incapacitated bodyguards and tackled them to the floor as Ray and Welsh went for Dankworth.

Just as the situation was under control, the doors burst open and Huey and Dewey appeared with Diefenbaker at their heels.

“Gentlemen, so good of you to join us,” said Welsh as he and Ray hauled an angry Dankworth to his feet. “You missed all the fun!”

“I told you we shouldn’t have left the party early,” Dewey said to his partner. Huey shook his head and laughed.

“Oh, look who met us outside,” added Dewey. “I guess he was worried about you being late home, Fraser,” he added with a smirk.

Diefenbaker went running over to Fraser and started licking his face enthusiastically.

“I’m sorry, Dief,” said Fraser. “Although I did tell you not to wait up for me.”

Fraser finally persuaded Dief to leave him alone. “Thank you for your assistance,” he said to Karl as he was handcuffed by one of the uniformed officers who had now arrived.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to the State’s Attorney,” added Welsh and Karl nodded appreciatively as he was led away.

“That was so exciting!” exclaimed Manny as he was being handcuffed. 

Ray looked at Welsh and they both laughed. “He has a point,” said Welsh. “This evening certainly took an upturn when the criminals with guns arrived. I’m glad I didn’t go to the Captain’s Cocktail Soiree.”

Ray nodded. “Nice shot, by the way,” he said.

“Thank you,” replied Welsh. It was so rare for him to be involved in active fieldwork now and it reminded him of how much he hated being behind a desk all day.

“I take it you were aiming for the guy’s leg?” queried Ray. Ray’s own shot had been way off even though he’d been wearing his glasses. He expected Fraser to insist he visited the range at the earliest opportunity to brush up on his skills.

“Er, no,” admitted Welsh. “Chest. You?”

Ray hesitated. “Er, head,” he said. “I dunno where Karl got those guns from,” he added, trying to pass the blame to the unfamiliar weapons they’d be using.

“Probably from a guy who knows a guy,” replied Welsh with a wink.

Fraser walked over with Ray’s phone in his hand. “Thank you kindly,” he said, handing it back to Ray. “Francesca has been doing some research. This building was once a gentlemen’s club frequented by some of Chicago's more dubious citizens in the twenties and thirties.” 

“So there really could be somethin’ behind that wall,” pondered Ray.

Fraser nodded. “Francesca also commented on how nice your car is to drive.”

“Yeah, well she’s not gonna be drivin’ it again anytime soon,” replied Ray.

“Oh and Sergeant Down took a message from the hospital,” added Fraser. “Julie Santini gave birth to a baby girl.”

Welsh and Ray couldn’t help smiling at that news.

Turnbull stood quietly watching the activity. His heart was still pounding; his fieldwork experience was very limited and he’d just helped in the apprehension of a heavily armed man who was twice his size. This wasn’t at all how he’d planned his birthday, but it was the best birthday he’d ever had. He glanced up as Inspector Thatcher walked over to him and Fraser joined them. 

“Good work, Constable,” said Thatcher, genuinely.

“And Happy Birthday, Turnbull,” added Fraser.

THE END


End file.
